


The Breaking Storm

by Undomiel5



Series: Servare Vitas [8]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Numb3rs, Original Work
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e08 Ultimatum, F/M, FBI Hostage Rescue Team, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undomiel5/pseuds/Undomiel5
Summary: On the morning of November 13th, Ian Edgerton is arrested for murder in Los Angeles. 2700 miles away, back in Quantico, Asha Hunter begins a normal day at work, unsuspecting the storm that is about to break in her life.





	1. Taushev Valentin Anatolievich – 11:45am

“Valentin!”

For a moment Valentin did not hear his name being called. Nearly half of HRT’s Red Team was gathered for morning sparing practice in the huge, single-room that was half-exercise room and half-practice arena and spanned the whole basement floor of HRT’s Headquarters. With good natured hoots, jibes, and encouragements flying from one side of the ring to the other, it made it quite hard to hear a call from half-way across the room.

“Valentin!!!” This time Valentin heard the louder, more piercing call. He looked up and around, catching sight of his boss, Dan Torre, standing by the staircase that led up to the main floor. Torre motioned for him to come, but Valentin hesitated momentarily. He was next up in line for practice and, liking sparing, did not want to lose his place. After a second, however, obedience won over his wish to spare, and he jogged away from the practice arena toward his boss.

As Valentin got closer and closer, his heart began to sink, and a knot began to form in his stomach. Torre’s whole body was tense, and his face was grave, very grave, the kind of grave that usually preceded someone getting called to his office to get awful news. Valentin’s mind immediately flew to his mother and younger sisters. Could something have happened to them?

“Yes, sir?” Valentin asked, sliding to a stop.

“I need you to go find Asha,” Torre replied, his voice just as grave as his face, “and send her to my office.”

Valentin felt mixed relief and horror: relief that his own family was okay, horror that one of his best friends was about to get some of the worst news of her life.

“Ian?” Valentin choked out.

Torre nodded.

“Dead?”

“Not yet.”

Valentin heard a clear emphasis on the word _yet_. His heart by now was at the level of his boots, and the knot in his stomach felt like a bowling ball. “What on earth happened?” He hissed, only at the last moment remembering to keep his voice low.

“Ian was arrested for murder,” Dan replied, roughly scrubbing a hand through his spiky hair, “He’s been tossed in the LA Federal Penitentiary where he has been dumping criminals for the last 20 years.”

“If he gets tossed into Gen Pop or one of the people he’s tossed in there gets a hold of him, gets close to him, …” Valentin trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought that both agents knew the answer to much too well. Unless something drastic happened, Ian’s lifespan had probably just decreased from years to days, if he was lucky, or hours, if he was not.

“His arrest has already made the news in LA. I don’t want Asha to see it on the news when it breaks here, and it will eventually.” Torre said.

“I’ll go get here.”

“Thank you,” Torre replied, squeezing his shoulder briefly, “once you have, go find Juan. You’re both excused from your duties for the rest of the day unless we get called out. I need you to keep an eye on Asha. If she wants to be left alone, leave her alone but keep an eye out. If she wants to go somewhere, drive her. The media is going to figure out eventually, if they haven’t already, that Ian and Asha are married. I don’t want her getting called by them or getting microphones shoved in her face.”

“Agreed!” Valentin answered, his voice grim.

The Russian dashed off up the stairs, leaving his boss to follow at a slower pace. Several of his teammates called out to him as he jogged through the station, but he only stopped long enough to ask if they had seen where Asha was before heading on. Within a couple minutes, he found her on the range outside where Connor Ross was supervising morning practice.

Stopping long enough to grab a pair of ear muffs so he did not go deaf from the gunshots, Valentin came up beside Ross and tapped him on the shoulder. “I need to borrow Asha. The boss needs her,” he yelled to make himself heard over the gunshots.

Ross nodded and gave a thumbs up: permission granted.

Valentin made his way to Asha’s lane, waited until she finished a mag and put her gun down, and then tapped her on the shoulder, carefully trying to keep his face neutral.

Asha turned, raising an eyebrow in question, but didn’t speak.

Valentin jerked his head back towards Headquarters. “Boss needs you,” he yelled.

Not expecting bad news, Asha did not recognize the look on his face that he was valiantly trying to hide. Asha smiled and nodded. After quickly reloading her empty mags, she reholstered her pistol, tossed the empty ammo box, and made her way inside.


	2. Asha Hunter – 12:00pm

Asha was having a good day so far. She hadn’t woken up early before her alarm, a very nice fact considering she got up about 5am; traffic had been light on the way to work; and practice had gone well all morning. Her morning training was almost done, and then she was going to go eat lunch, leftovers from dinner the previous night. Then, when Valentin had come out of nowhere and tapped her on the shoulder while she couldn’t hear him coming, she had even managed not to jump.

Asha turned, raising an eyebrow in question, wondering why he was interrupting her training. She did not try to speak, disliking having to yell to make herself heard over the gunfire on the range.

Valentin jerked his head back toward Headquarters, yelling, “Boss needs you.”

Asha wondered for a moment if something was wrong. To her eyes, Valentin seemed pale, more so than usual. Built like a runner, her friend was tall and lean. Even his face was thin, enough so that with his eyes, set deep into face, he often looked ill and even gaunt if the lighting was off. After a moment, chalking his seeming paleness up to that, Asha nodded in understanding. She quickly reloaded her gun, trashed the empty ammo box, and then hurried inside.

She had just reached the door that led inside Headquarters from the direction of the range when she realized that she had forgotten to ask Valentin where the boss was. Deciding to try his office on the likely guess that he was there, she made her way through the winding hallways upstairs to his office. The door was open when she arrived. Torre was sitting at his desk bent over his papers but was not actually working. He looked up immediately at her knock.

“You sent for me?” Asha asked.

Torre rose slowly to his feet, “Come in, and shut the door.”

Asha began to feel the first inkling of worry as she obeyed and gently closed the door. Dan was acting very un-Dan like. Unless someone was about to get chewed out, he was not usually one for closed-door chats.

“Boss?”

“Take a seat,” was all he said as he perched himself on the side of his desk closer to where Asha was about to sit.

Asha obeyed again, scanning Dan’s face with cautious, wary eyes. She did not like where this meeting was going, what she feared she was about to hear. The first vestiges of panic began to stir, and she ruthlessly tried to stamp them down, unwilling to let herself jump to worst case scenarios.

“Boss, what’s going on?”

“Ian’s been arrested for murder by the United States Marshals.”

For a moment Asha did not react, her face blank, and eyes full of non-comprehension as she struggled to process word-by-word what Dan had just said. Then, slowly, her face began to fill with horror as his statement sunk in.

“That’s madness,” she cried, “Ian would never.”

“He was found at the scene of the crime, and his knife was found a block away, covered in blood.”

Asha scrubbed her hands across her face, murmuring, “It’s isn’t true.” After a second, she asked, “Where are you hearing this?”

“It’s already made the news in LA, but I have friend in the Marshals, who was in the group who arrested him, who has been feeding me what news he can.”

“This is ridiculous. They have the wrong man. Why isn’t the FBI helping him? Ian has friends at the local field office, an Agent Don Epps.” Asha struggled to keep her voice level, to keep from allowing her panic to overrule her good sense.

Her boss did not respond, but the look on his face answered her question. Even Ian’s friends in LA believed he was a murder.

Leaning her elbows on her knees, Asha buried her face in her hands and dug her fingers painfully tight into her hair. She was quiet for several minutes. Dan did not try to speak either, giving her a few minutes to regain her composure.

When she straightened, Asha was somewhat calmer, “Where have they taken him?” She asked.

“The LA Federal Penitentiary.” His words sounded to Asha’s ears like a death knell.

“He’s been taking captured prisoners there for two decades…” Her voice sunk to a horrified whisper. “An FBI agent whom they think has turned to the dark side, the wardens aren’t going to be very careful about protecting him. If …” Her voice trailed off again. “What can I do? Can I go to LA?”

“No,” Dan shook his dead definitively, “I don’t want you to get involved in this firestorm, and whatever happened, Ian wouldn’t want you involved either. You need to stay here.”

Asha sprung from her chair like a jack-in-the-box and began to pace, “What I am supposed to do? Wring my hands, and wait to get the call that my husband is dead, that I’m a widow?”

“The first thing you need to do is sit back down,” Dan said, his voice gentle but firm. Once she has followed his instruction, he continued, “Panicking is not going to do any good. There’s nothing you can do for Ian right now. Go take a walk, see your family, go to church. Go do something to keep your mind occupied. … The armory needs its end-of-the-week cleaning, if you want something mind-numbing and time-consuming to do.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” She cracked a slight, fitful smile at her boss’ last statement.

“It’s not your fault. I’ll keep you informed when I hear anything new.”

Asha rose. “Thank you,” she said softly and then turned for the door.

“Oh, Asha, one last thing. If you want to leave Quantico, that’s fine, but I want one of the team to go with you. The media is likely going to find out that Ian’s married, and I don’t want you to get harassed by the media while you’re by yourself.”

Asha stuffed her hands into the pocket of her fleece vest and scuffed one boot tip across the floor, “Ian doesn’t wear his wedding ring on hunts. Unless someone has searched his stuff or the sorry-excuse for a place he calls an apartment there and found where he leaves his ring, they might not know. Ian doesn’t talk about our relationship much at work. Though if they have checked his personal file, they might see there. Although, considering some of his past missions, it might be redacted.”

“I still want someone with you, regardless.”

“Yes, sir.”

Asha turned silently and left, gently closing the door behind her.


	3. Juan Romero – 12:15pm

“This is ridiculous!”

“Agreed.”

“This is madness!”

“Agreed!”

“Snipers and trackers are a peculiar breed, but they just don’t turn into murderers overnight!!”

“Juan, I believe Ian is as guilty as much as you do. You’re preaching to the choir.”

Valentin and Juan were loitering on the small over-hang on the 2nd floor of Headquarters which looked down over the main lobby but also gave them a good line-of-sight to the door of Dan’s office. Valentin was leaning his forearms on the rail, starring downwards, while Juan leaned against the rail and watched like a hawk for Asha’s appearance.

The minutes dragged on and on, but finally Asha appeared. Her face was shell-shocked, and her face was somehow near chalky pale even underneath her copper complexion. Her feet seemed to be moving on automatic, since her eyes were set in a thousand-yard stare, barely seeing what was in front of her.

Since she was heading toward the stairs at the front of the building, Juan quickly guessed that she was going outside.

“You follow her,” Valentin said, “I’m going to get her coat from her locker.”

Valentin hurried off toward the locker rooms, and Juan slowly followed Asha, careful to keep her in his sights but also careful to give her space. The two went outside, as Juan had predicted, and Asha started wandering away from Headquarters, seeming to pick a path at random. For a long time they wandered along. Valentin caught up quickly, his long legs easily eating up the distance.

“As she even noticed you yet?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t think so,” Juan replied.

Valentin muttered something harshly under his breath in Russian and then fell silent. Juan’s Russian was nearly non-existent, so he had no idea what his friend had said, but he suspected that he didn’t really want to know what Valentin had said, considering his tone-of-voice.

After over 45 minutes of walking, Juan finally saw a pattern in Asha’ rambling path: they had almost made a giant loop—first following the main road away from Headquarters, then splitting off at a nearby service road, and then cutting back through the woods until they reached a small hill about a quarter-mile away from Headquarters that overlooked the building and the outdoor range but was nowhere close to the line of fire if a shot missed the backstop.

Asha sunk to a seat on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Juan and Valentin closed the distance between them, carefully making sure to make some noise so not to startle the probably jumpy sniper. She looked up when Valentin intentionally stepped on and cracked a small, thin branch.

“Hey,” he said.

Looking up and back, she gave them a weak smile but did not reply. Gratefully accepting the jacket Valentin extended, she draped it around her shoulders and pulled it tight around her. The fact that Asha, who was rarely seen even in late fall without at least one jacket, had gone outside in just her vest was another sign of how troubled and rattled she was.

Valentin and Juan settled down beside her for a long vigil. The minutes ticked by slowly. Each was lost in thought.

After a long time had passed, Asha finally said, “I hate this. My life is falling apart around my ears, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Ian is in danger, and there’s nothing I can do to help him.”

“You can pray,” Juan, a devout Roman Catholic, replied, “The Father always hears the prayers of His children.”

“I hope you’re right!” Asha’s tone was doubtful, but she bowed her head nonetheless.

Pulling his battered but familiar wood rosary from his coat pocket, Juan joined her in prayer, crossing himself and then starting to murmur softly, “En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amen.”


	4. Taushev Valentin Anatolievich – 4:00pm

If Valentin had ever had any doubts about Asha’s efficiency, they would have been put to rest that afternoon. After a long walk and even longer vigil outside, Juan, Valentin, and Asha had all return to Headquarters about 2:15pm. Juan had quickly split off to wolf down a late lunch and then had returned so Valentin could do the same.

Valentin was now half-watching and half-helping Asha as she swept through the armory like a very efficient hurricane, cleaning and organizing the armory back to rights after a long and busy week. In just over an hour-and-a-half, she had nearly finished half the armory.

When he saw Juan hovering outside in the hallway, Valentin quietly slipped out.

“Any news?” He asked. Juan had left a little bit earlier to check for an update with the boss and talk to their other teammates who were also worried about Asha but were trying to give her some space.

Juan shook his head, “Nadda.”

“I suppose, in this case, no news might be good news,” Valentin replied slowly.

Juan shrugged.

The two returned to the armory. The slightest noise of their footsteps made Asha, her ears very keen, look up with a question in her eyes. Valentin shook his head sadly. He hated seeing that look in her eyes—a heartbreaking mixture of grief, fear, despair, and longing—and wished there was something he could do to help her or Ian.

They all returned to work. As the time passed, Headquarters slowly quieted. Having 90 operators, at least, plus their support staff made for a noisy building at time, especially when there was training going on in the range. Most of the team cycled through periodically to check on Asha, before returning to their duties, and then repeating the cycle later.

By about 6pm, most of the HRT Red Team operators had headed home. Asha had slowed down as the afternoon progressed and was just about to finish in the armory with the help of Valentin and Juan. Right at 6, Dan Torre appeared in the doorway of the armory and motioned to Valentin. Juan and Asha were farther back in the room out of sight of the door.

“She’s still at work?” Torre asked.

Valentin nodded, stamping his feet in place to get rid of the pins-and-needles that sitting on the floor too long had brought, “She got through the first half in record time, but she’s been slowing down recently. Unsurprising, since she hasn’t had any food since breakfast.”

“Nothing since breakfast? Considering the time she got here, that’s been at least 12 hours.”

“We tried feeding her, sir, multiple times, but she said she wasn’t hungry,” Valentin replied apologetically, “We did manage to get several mugs of tea with honey into her. Martin was kind enough to donate some of his tea stash.” Martin Fleming was British by birth and now a naturalized American citizen. He semi-frequently complained about the sorry-excuse for tea that Americans drank and the indignity of putting tea in bags. He always kept a stash of ‘real’ tea in his locker.

Torre’s craggy face broke into a smile at this. Martin’s fondness for and rants about tea were rather legendary in HRT. It wasn’t often that he was willing to part from some of his stash that his sister in England periodically sent him.

“You and Juan are welcome to go on home. You’ve done enough for now.”

“This team’s family. We take care of our own,” replied Valentin, “We don’t mind keeping an eye on her a while longer, boss. I don’t think she should be alone right now … in case the news ends up being bad.”

“She’s not going to be alone. She’s coming home with me.” Torre lived in the same house that he had bought after his oldest son Joshua, now grown, was born. With both his sons grown and out of the house, Dan and his wife Elaine were left with several spare bedrooms. For various reasons, members of his team would periodically end up crashing at his house.

Valentin relaxed at this, relieved to hear Torre’s pronouncement. “If possible, can you keep us updated? We’ll all worried about Asha and Ian, too. He’s got his quirks, but he's a good guy and a good agent.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I guess I’ll see you Monday, then.”

“Unless we get called out.”

Valentin turned to go get Juan and say goodbye to Asha, when Dan added one more thing, “Tell Asha to finish up. I’m going to go get my coat, and then I’ll be back to get her.”


	5. Asha Hunter -- 6:00pm

Asha had dutifully almost finished up by the time Dan entered the armory a few minutes later. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor by a rack of tall metal shelves, finishing checking the contents of a box.

"Time's up, Hunter! Time to go home!" Dan said, making sure to make his footsteps heard first so not to startle Asha.

The distraction of work for the past several hours had done her some good. She was still pale but no longer deathly pale, and her face had lost the shell-shocked look of before. Her teammates had done their best to offer good wishes and cheer her up, and Asha was in marginally better spirits, though she was still very worried about Ian.

"Here, sir," Asha called back, "I'm almost done."

"It's six o'clock," Dan replied, appearing around the corner, "Time to go home."

"I'll be done in a moment. You don't need to stay. I'll make sure the armory's locked before I leave."

"Finish the box. Then you're done. Gold Team will be here tomorrow. They can finish." Dan said, his voice brooking no argument.

If it had been another day, Asha might have argued anyway, but after today, she was physically, mentally, and emotionally tired and was not interested in pushing the point. Under Dan's watchful gaze, she quickly finished the box, put it back on the shelf, dusted off her hands, and then made to stand.

Almost as soon as she moved, Dan became two and then one and then two and then sort of one, moving, separating, remerging in a near nauseating fashion. Everything else started to get fuzzy and then move in the same fashion. The floor suddenly became sloped, as Asha's head spun. She made a desperate grab for something to steady her and managed to grab one of the vertical supports of the metal shelving that was thankfully bolted to the floor. Without her recognizing that he had moved, Dan was suddenly at her side and had grabbed on to her arm.

"Easy does it. Easy… I've got you!"

It was several minutes before her head cleared and everything stopped spinning. She carefully, slowly let go of the shelving, pealing each finger off one by one. Dan then slowly let go of her arm, leaving his hand inches away from her arm in case he needed to grab her again.

"Steady?"

"Think so, boss," said Asha, sheepishly, "I must have gotten up too quickly."

"Or you've been working too long and too hard with not enough to eat," Dan growled, his tone one more of worry and reproof than actual anger.

There was not much of anything Asha could say to get out of that, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.

Dan shook his head ruefully, "Sometimes I think my snipers need keepers."

Asha shrugged and smiled again sheepishly. Lying absolutely still hour after hour after hour, often outside, and sometimes in inhospitable conditions, to provide over-watch and sniper support for their teammates had semi-frequently left Asha or one of the team's other snipers with hypoglycemia, dehydration, colds, and twice even pneumonia. The same situation would periodically rear its ugly head during training. As a result, their teammates, especially the older ones who had kids, were known to grumble about finding keepers or minders for the snipers, while at the same time diligently plying them with food, blankets, hot tea, and needed medicine.

Dan stuck close to her side as they slowly made the way out of the armory. Asha was walking steadily under her own power, but her head was pounding, and her face was pinched like someone with a bad headache. Her go-bag was sitting in the hallway by the armory door; one of her teammates must have pulled it out of her locker for her. Asha made a grab to pick it up, but Dan snatched it up before she could.

"I can get it," Asha said, "It's not that heavy."

"You haven't had any food since breakfast, and you almost did a header minutes ago. I think you getting outside under your own power is a sufficient enough challenge."

The sniper made a face but fell silent, not feeling like pressing the point with her boss. When the two stepped outside, Asha's feet automatically began to turn toward the right off where her truck was parked. The gentle but firm hand on her arm steered her back on to the right course.

"You're coming home with me, Asha."

Asha turned and obediently followed Dan toward his truck, a dark blue Ram, parked on the other side of the lot. As soon as they are on the road, Asha leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Now that she had actually slowed down enough to take stock, Asha admitted to herself that she was feeling rather nasty. Her head was pounding and aching at the same time. Her hands were shaky: it had taken her three tries to buckle her seat belt. She still was not feeling totally steady, even if she was steady enough to walk on her own.

The twenty minute drive back to Dan's house passed quietly. Asha rested, and Dan was driving silently, only occasionally drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the rare occurrence of his main tic. Asha was nearly asleep by the time they pulled into his driveway; sitting still and quiet had eased her headache enough for exhaustion, both mental and physical, to set in.

Asha roused when Dan gently touched her shoulder. "We're here," he said.

Asha opened her eyes and looked around. She sat up slowly, moving gingerly in an attempt not to reignite the pounding of her head. She climbed slowly from the car and followed Dan up the drive.

Elaine Torre was waiting for them inside the door. She must have already heard at least some of what was going on, since she welcomed Asha without surprise at her arrival. Mrs. Torre was a plain looking woman in her mid-40s. She was of a small build and only came up to her husband's shoulder. Her eyes were a warm brown, and her hair was a light brown that lightened to goldish-brown where the sun hit it. Her face was welcoming and kind, and a motherly air swirled around her.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said, greeting her husband with a quick kiss. She then turned to Asha, "I hope you like soup, dear."

Never loquacious at the best of times, Asha just nodded in reply, though she smiled inwardly at the greeting.

"Come in then. Go put your bag down in whichever guest room you like. The dogs are upstairs. I'm sure they will be glad to see you."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." This time Asha spoke.

Asha turned and extended her hand for her go-bag which Dan had carried in from the car. He studied her with a critical eye for several moments before releasing it to her. Familiar with the layout of the house, Asha made her way upstairs with ease to the first guestroom of the stairs. The family's two dogs—Smith, a coal black German Shepherd, and Wesson, a massive snowy white German Shepherd—met her at the top of the stairs. Both dogs were familiar with all of their master's team members and greeted the exhausted woman like they would family. Even Wesson, the more staid and reserved of the two, allowed himself to be patted, petted, and stroked. Wesson soon went down to greet his master, but Smith followed her to the guest room, seeming to sense that the troubled woman needed some company.

Dinner with the Torres was quiet. Mrs. Torre was an excellent cook, and Asha would usually have appreciated good chicken noodle soup on a cool day but could only bring herself to eat two-thirds of her food. Her boss and his wife periodically tried to include Asha in the conversation, but Asha, thinking about Ian, how he was doing, and all that could theoretically go wrong, was distracted and gave only short answers, when they could get her attention.

"I'm sorry I haven't been better company this evening," Asha said after supper as she carried her dishes into the kitchen.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, dear," Mrs. Torre replied, "You've had a long and hard day: Dan told me the bare bones of what happened. I have been and will be praying for you both."

"Thanks," Asha said giving her hostess a wan smile.

With Mrs. Torre's promise to send up tea in a little while, Asha retreated from the kitchen back to the guest room upstairs. Smith, who had apparently appointed himself her companion, followed along beside her and then flopped himself on the floor like a giant, fluffy black rug when they got inside her room.

"I'm going to step on you or trip over you, pup, if you aren't careful," Asha said to the dog.

"Woof."

Asha smiled and rolled her eyes. She knelt down and scratched him behind the ears and under the chin, watching his tail go thump, thump, thump, thump, thump on the floor in gratitude. She smiled again. Dogs always had a way of cheering her up, even when humans couldn't.

The next few hours passed quietly. Asha had pulled out a battered copy of Tom Clancy's _The Hunt for Red October_ and was working her way through the story of Marco Ramius and Jack Ryan for the umpteenth time. When she had moved from the desk to stretch out on the bed, Smith had also from the door to beside the bed, though Asha thought from his whines that he would have liked to join her on the bed.

It was about 10pm when a rap, rap, rap on the door frame drew her attention away from the story and from her meandering thoughts. Dan was standing in the doorway. Asha knew immediately from his face that whatever news he had was bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smith -- http://puppytoob.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/Black-German-Shepherd-750x493.jpg
> 
> Wesson -- https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c4/06/58/c406583429a6ee3cd62c0f773bd70095.jpg


	6. Dan Torre -- 10:00pm

"She looks lost," Elaine said to her husband, several hours before, as soon as she heard the stairs creak and knew Asha was out of earshot.

"Her world is collapsing around her ears," Dan replied, bringing the last of the supper dishes into the kitchen for his wife to load into the dishwasher, "and there nothing she can do to stop it, she thinks, or help Ian."

"Does she have family to support her?" Elaine asked. It was difficult for her to keep track of all the families of all the team members of her husband's large team.

"An aunt and uncle who moved down to the Carolinas last year, and a cousin up in New York, I think. The rest of her family has long since passed."

Elaine shook her head sadly as she pushed the dishwasher shut and turned it on. "How's she handling the situation?"

"Besides nearly working herself to exhaustion? Relatively calmly once she got over the initial panic. Asha is, unfortunately, very skilled at compartmentalizing, even if it costs her later."

"Do we need to keep a close eye on her?" Elaine asked, moving to start making tea. "Can you get me the teakettle down, please?"

Dan retrieved the little-used teakettle from its spot in the cabinet before answering, "Keep an eye on her, yes. Keep a close eye, no. Asha doesn't mind quiet company, but she hates people hovering over her. The dogs might be more of a comfort to her right now than us."

* * *

 

After taking a mug of tea upstairs to Asha, Dan retreated to his study in the back of the house to try to get something productive done. He lit the fireplace both for the warmth and the soothing crackling and then sat down to work on the paperwork from the office that he could actually bring home.

The hours passed in slow and tedious fashion. Paperwork was a necessary evil in Dan's mind that had few uses beside numbing the brain and passing the time. His wife came and sat with him for a while, rocking by the fireplace and working on her knitting, but eventually went to bed.

After a couple hours, the only thing keeping Dan mostly awake was the hardness of his desk chair. He had been up since just before 5am, and after a long, busy, and stressful day, he was nearly dead on his feet. Suddenly his phone began to buzzzzzzz, jolting him back to awareness from a near doze. He glanced at the screen. Trevor Pierce, the caller ID said. His watch said it was just after 10pm.

_Finally_ , Dan thought, _some news. Please Lord, let it be good_.

"Please tell me you have good news, Trevor," Dan said as a greeting, answering the call.

"That would depend on your definition of good news," said the Marshal in reply. "Edgerton's still in one piece, but the situation has taken a nasty turn for the worse."

"Oh for good…" Dan cut himself off and scrubbed a hand across his face, "What happened?"

"Edgerton escaped custody inside the prison two-and-a-half hours ago. There was brief contact on the security cameras, but he quickly disappeared."

"Sounds like Ian. That man is hard, sometimes impossible, to find if he doesn't want to be found."

"He reappeared an hour ago some distance from where he disappeared…" Trevor's voice trailed off, the usually blunt and to-the-point man hesitating to finish his news.

"And…," said Dan, "I know there's an _and_."

"He took a hostage, Dan: one of the FBI agents from the local field office. Negotiations are still going on. The FBI are trying to end this peacefully."

"That doesn't make any sense." Dan was flabbergasted. _What was Ian thinking?_

"He wouldn't be the first prisoner to panic or get desperate…" Trevor cautioned.

"Ian Edgerton isn't your run-of-the-mill gang banger. He's been hunting and catching perps for 20 years. He's a legend in the sniper community. Ian Edgerton does not panic or get that desperate not in these circumstances, not unless…" Dan knew Ian relatively well and had only one, in many years, seen the man come close to losing his cool. It had taken a gun to Asha's head for that to happen.

"Unless what?"

"I don't know for sure, but something else is going on."

"You'd be the one to know," said Trevor, "I need to go. I'll let you know when there's more news."

"Thank you."

Dan sat in silence for several minutes after his call ended. No matter how many times he ran the situation over in his head, he could not figure out for the life of him what Ian was thinking. He scrubbed a hand through his spiky hair and then dragged himself to his feet with a muttered but fervently sincere, "Father, have mercy!"

* * *

 

Wesson, a white mountain of fur on the dark carpet, was lying in the living room as Dan came though. The dog roused at his master's approach but stilled at a quiet word from Dan. He took the stairs quickly but quietly. The door to the guest room Asha was in was mostly shut, leaving just enough light spilling into the hallway for Dan to see by. Seeing Asha lying on the bed reading, through the crack in the door, he rapped his fingers on the door frame. She looked up immediately at the noise.

"Come in," she said softly.

Dan entered, closing the door behind him. Asha scanned his face as he turned back towards her. A gamut of emotions passed across her face in a split second, before her expression went completely closed-off and blank.

"May I sit?" Dan asked, motioning to the desk chair.

Asha raised an eyebrow, "It's your house, boss."

"And your room for the moment."

"Have at it…"

Dan took a seat, using the extra few seconds to formulate how best to tell Asha the latest news. Smith, who had roused from his place by the bed, trotted over and was greeted with a scratch behind the ears.

"News?" She asked neutrally.

"Ian escaped from police custody two-and-a-half hours ago."

"Inside or outside the prison."

"Inside."

"Has he been recaptured yet? Do they know where he is?"

"Yes, they know where he is, but no, he has not been recaptured…He took a hostage, one of the local FBI agents."

"No one has been hurt? Ian or the agent?"

"Not as far as I know, but my contact only had limited information."

Dan knew that Asha could draw the likely conclusions of how this situation was likely to end, but yet her face was blank. He wondered for a moment if it was shock but decided against that because he had seen her do this before. As he had said hours earlier to his wife, Asha was good, too good for her own good sometimes, at compartmentalizing her feelings.

"Thank you for the update," Asha finally said after a long silence.

"I'll let you know as soon as I heard anything more," Dan said, rising to his feet, "I'll be in my study if you need anything."

Dan was sure as he left the room that neither of them was going to get much, if any, sleep that night.


	7. Asha Hunter -- 5:00am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Last chapter for this story. The story set Post-Ultimatum when Ian returns to Virginia will be a separate story.

Asha did not move a muscle for nearly fifteen minutes after Dan left the room. Locking down her body, she turned her single-minded focus inwards to try to figure out what was going on in LA. Like Dan, the reports from LA on Ian's behavior and the situation in the prison were baffling. After three years of marriage and two years before that of friendship, Asha knew Ian's habits, quirks, and personality like few others ever had or would. Escaping from custody and taking a hostage, his actions simply did not make any sense, judging from the facts she had to go on. Such reckless behavior would make him look more guilty, would work against attempts to have him exonerated, and were totally unlike him.

After marking her place in her book and putting it aside with careful, precise movements, Asha shifted up the bed until her back was pressed tight against the hard wooden headboard and pulled her knees up to her chest. Resting her elbows on her knees, she dug her fingers painfully tight into her hair, using the momentary pain to ground her.

Asha hated everything about this situation, but most of all she hated the waiting for news, hated that her husband was in danger, and there was nothing she could do to help him like he had helped when she was in danger.

Asha dashed a hand across her stinging eyes, wiping away the rebellious tears that tried to fall. She wanted to burst into tears, scream, hit something, shoot something, do something besides waiting but was unwilling, at the same time, to so lose control as to do any of those things. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tipped her head back, resting it against the headboard. Her usually acute vision was dimmed by a sheen of tears that made everything blurry. Biting her lip until she tasted blood, she tried through force of will to get control of herself.

Despite her position in bed, Asha eventually drifted off into a light and uneasy doze, more from pure and utter exhaustion rather than any actual desire to sleep, only to jolt awake with a start a short time later. Any time she drifted off into a deeper sleep, it was only to have nightmares haunting her dreams: dreams of Ian dying in every horrid way her fertile imagination could create; dreams of Dan bringing her the news that Ian was dead, that she was a widow; and the like. Around 1:30am, she jolted awake for the final time that night with a strangled stream dying in her throat. All her sleep had brought her was a haunted night and a crick in her neck.

Climbing from bed and stepping carefully over the sleeping German Shepherd on the rug, she switched off the light and took a seat in the window ledge. Dan's house was far enough out in the country that there were no street lights so Asha could see countless more stars than she could from her apartment building, especially since there were no house lights on, either, at this unearthly hour of the morning.

Picking out the constellations was bittersweet. Long ago, when she had still been a child, growing up in Montana, she had used to stargaze with her parents, while her mother taught her the stories of her people about the origins of the constellations and about the legendary heroes of olden days. But those days were long, long past, faded into the dim wisps of memory that still remained of those days before she had lost her parents, lost them like she might lose Ian soon. If she focused, Asha could even call up dim and fuzzy memories of her parents' faces without resorting to pulling out the picture of them that she always kept in her wallet. Asha wondered morosely and pessimistically if it was her fate, her curse to keep losing those she loved most.

With these melancholy memories for company, Asha passed the night alone. Just before 5am, stiff and sore in body, and weary and sorrowful in mind, she stirred from her spot in the window. After painfully unfolding and stretching out the kinks, she pulled on her boots and slipped out the bedroom door, Smith following silently on her heels like a big black shadow. She managed to get down the stairs, only stepping on two creaky spots. As she entered the kitchen on the hunt for a mug of tea, Asha started in surprise when she found Dan sitting at the island with his phone in one hand and a mug of coffee sitting in front of him.

"I was just about to come find you," he said.

Even as her heart-rate slowed from its sudden gallop, Asha's face went blank, but even as her mind processed his words and prepared for the worst, she noticed Dan's face was not grave or solemn like it has been the previous times he had had news for her. His face was, rather, full of relief.

"News?" She asked, trying to keep her voice level.

"Ian's safe."

Only locking her knees and grabbing for the counter kept Asha on her feet. Dan pushed the other empty chair away from the island and motioned for her to sit.

"He's really okay?"

"He's is! Ian's safe. His hostage is too. It's over."

Asha bit her lip, trying to keep from crying. All she felt was utter, utter relief.

"I've yet to get the whole story of what is going down in LA, but Ian is going to be released once the courts open on Monday. He's coming home."


End file.
